One day, a long time ago, I was queuing to pay in WH Smith, when I realised that the man in front of me was Ken Dodd. For our younger readers, he was a comedian and performer especially famous in the 60s and 70s but with a career that continued well after that. He was taller than I expected, wore a long raincoat of indeterminate colour, and if it hadn’t been for the teeth I might have missed him. He didn’t crack a single joke or wield his tickling stick at the sales assistant, which was disappointing.
Talking of teeth, years later I had a near miss with Janet Street Porter’s shopping trolley in a Faversham farm shop. I was distracted by a display of heritage carrots in every conceivable colour apart from orange, and my trolley nearly collided with hers. I was about to ask her whether there was any evidence that our ancestors ate such a rainbow selection of carrots, but Janet didn’t look as if she was likely to welcome unsolicited conversation, root vegetable-related or otherwise, so I thought better of it and headed for the tomatoes, very few of which were red.
That was the sum total of my celebrity encounters but, as the date for our move to Rye approached, I imagined so much more. I would bump into Sir Paul as I entered the bakers, and I would spot Jim Moir (who used to be Vic Reeves) with his binoculars trained on some rare bird visiting the nature reserve. Who knew what other famous faces I would see?
Now, nearly five years later, my celebrity sightings remain stubbornly at two. Sir Paul rarely visits and Jim Moir has taken his second career elsewhere. Another problem is my own complete ignorance of famous people, which means that I hardly ever recognise anyone if I accidentally tune into celebrity versions of game shows. This, added to my increasingly poor eyesight that led recently to me not recognising a member of my own quiz team, means that I could well be passing famous people in the street on a daily basis without knowing.
So what is the answer? Well, I could wear my glasses for a start. I could browse the sort of website where this kind of information is located or spend more time on social media. I could camp out on a strategically placed bench and train my binoculars on the passing crowds, but even if that wouldn’t look suspicious I don’t think I’ll bother. The fact is that there are so many lovely people in Rye that I find I care little or nothing about whether they are famous. Indeed, I suspect they are probably a lot nicer as they are…
Image Credits: Heidi Foster .
Famous People. We lived in Rye during the 80s and owned Udimore Garage. It was during one of Margaret Thatcher’s recession’s, many people were out of work and we had to give up selling petrol. An old white Mercedes pulled onto the forecourt, my husband Philip was telling the man the woes of trade downturn and no longer selling petrol etc. It wasn’t until the man said goodbye and got into his car, Phil recognised the voice of Paul McCartney. And there’s more as the late comedian said. I was buying school shoes for my daughter in Freeman Hardy and Willis in Rye High Street. My daughter was saying to the assistant, I want Doc Martens “you can’t have Doc Martens for school “I said. At the same time a lady was saying to her daughters you can’t wear those for school, I don’t mind you having them but not for school. I looked round and it was Linda McCartney with Mary and Stella and one of the girls had picked up a shiny black patent shoe with a small heel. We laughed at the contrast of footwear we were saying no to.
I could list a number of fashion designers, super models, fashion photographers and famous media people, pop stars and musicians who are in Rye most weekends, but if I did it would ruin their privacy and pleasure of coming to Rye. They come to Rye to not be seen and go to two distinctive properties for privacy.
I was just heading out of Adam’s Stationers when my exit was impeded by a bunch of people … which happened to be the whole McCartney family.
You win
I live in Hastings Old Town, and there are a couple of actors who live here. I’m fortunate enough to know them on first name terms, and we stop to chat whenever we bump into each other. I think Rye is probably of the same ilk: if you’re a nice person, it doesn’t matter if you’re wealthy or not. By the same token, St Leonards has a few residents who ‘used to be someone, aren’t now, but still think they are’. We are very lucky to live in such an unspoilt area, where we all bumble along together. Some people have moved here from more affluent communities and they don’t tend to stay long if they don’t mix.